Conclusions of Conflict
by corinne sparrow
Summary: Setting: after bk. 12. Lauren Kale is accidentally sucked through a tear in the fabric of the Old World, and she finds herself in the aftermath of the Great Battle against Ka Anor and the Hetwan...
1. My boring life

Okay. I'm writing this mainly because _Entertain the End_ didn't leave enough closure for me. I mean, really! Nothing ends. That blew me out of the water. So…I'm going to introduce a new character, a few flaws in the fabric of the Old World, and the aftermath of the Great Battle, as it will be remembered for centuries to come…

And no, I don't own David, Jalil, April, Christopher or any of the other characters, except for Lauren, and all that entails her character. K. A. Applegate (may she live forever) owns the Everworld gang and it's probably going to stay that way.

**Chapter One**

The icy winds blew off Lake Michigan as I locked my car, a green rusted-out '97 Chevy Blazer, and stuffed my hands into my pockets. I hunched my head down below my coat collar and ran as quickly as I could towards the door. I entered McDonald's, and the familiar scent of grease enveloped me. I didn't wrinkle my nose in disgust; mostly I was accustomed to it.

I adjusted my visor as I slipped past my coworkers, greeting a few of them, and hung my coat in the crew room. Rubbing my hands together to warm them for a moment, I shivered and headed for the time clock.

Work was the same as always. Everything was normal here; nothing ever changed. Occasionally there was an accident in the busy intersection outside of the giant complex of parking lots, but in the neighborhood where I lived things were even less likely to happen.

My dad and I lived over a storefront in a sleepy section of North Shore, Chicago. Dad owned the place beneath us, an antique shop that was known for its rare finds. He'd found a bowl in someone's garbage that was worth over two hundred dollars once. That was the only embarrassing thing; he enjoyed digging through other people's trash. Our apartment was littered with rotting window frames, antique dresser knobs (not all of them on the dressers, either) and curios that Dad said had "character". Whatever that was.

To me it was just junk. He would always argue that it paid for our meals, but I knew the real truth. He'd always told me that my mother was dead, that she had died fifteen years ago. I'd been only two and a half. But she couldn't be dead; she sent him checks every month. It wasn't court-ordered child support because they weren't divorced. Or at least he claimed they weren't. Mom had apparently waltzed off one night when I was little. Dad won't tell me the reason because he is still trying to make me believe she got cancer and died when I was a toddler. Right.

I kicked the wall in frustration when I looked at the battle plan. I was in the back booth _again._ Those idiots. They might as well have turned me into Popsicle. I could hear the TV anchor now: "Local North Shore resident, Lauren Kale, is frozen into a solid block of ice after being banished to the chilly first booth of the Edwards Street McDonald's…"

I grumbled as I grabbed a headset and turned it on, grimacing at the familiar, but incredibly annoying beeping that held my attention. Someone was at the drive-up.

One of my coworkers answered the beeping with an amazingly under-enunciated "Welcome to McDonald's. How may I help you?" It sounded more like "Welgum do MgDonals. Howmay I helb yo?" The customer gave her order, and after changing her mind three times as to the special instructions on her hamburger, decided she wanted chicken instead. Then she pulled ahead and complained to me that I sounded like Charlie Brown's mother on the speaker. I tried to explain that it wasn't me, but she still seemed a bit disgruntled.

The rest of the day was like that, stuck in the Antarctica of first booth, with naught but a cranky space heater and yon small cup of blessed cappuccino.


	2. And then it all happened

Hey again, thanks to my one reviewer! (Any more!) I know y'all read this but didn't review!

Anyways…I don't own 'em, I just write about 'em.

**Chapter Two**

I ended up getting out fifteen minutes late, and after peeling off my frozen clothing in the crew bathroom, shivering all the while; I threw on some jeans, shoes, and a sweatshirt.

My dad was dealing with some customers when I got home, so I slipped upstairs to our apartment and climbed into the bathtub. The hot water soothed my tired, tight muscles, and I relaxed indefinitely.

I woke to a soft knock at the door. "Lauren, are you in there?"

"Yeah, Dad. You have to go? I'll get out."

"No, no, it's okay. The shop is closed. You want spaghetti and meatballs or Rice-a-roni for dinner?"

I grimaced; my Dad isn't what you'd call a "cook". He's more of a "mad scientist" when it comes to food; that is, if it looks colorful, and smells okay, it goes in the pot. I'd made scrambled eggs many times after we dumped an awful mess into the trash.

"I'll make something when I get out of here, if you want to relax, Dad." It was the safest way, especially when I was hungry. Make it yourself; chances are you won't go hungry. That was pretty much my motto when it came to eating at home.

"Okay." I could hear him shuffle away, and after the _creak_ of his easy chair in the living room, the laugh track of a sitcom. Then the announcer on some sports event. Probably football; it was Monday night.

Having napped and cleansed all in one, I emptied the tub and pulled on my clothing. Then, squeezing out my strawberry blonde hair - at the moment, being wet, it looked auburn - I put it up in a messy bun and secured the front section back in twisties before pinning them down.

Then, sufficiently decked out to my taste, or enough for an evening of lounging about the house, I headed for the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. There wasn't much. That, of course, I already knew, though; tomorrow was grocery day, so everything would be a bit sparse around the house.

I finally settled on mini pizzas. They were simple to make; diced tomatoes and mozzarella cheese on half a bagel and broil them in the oven for a bit. I usually doused them in spices, too.

Fifteen minutes later, I heard the high-pitched whine of the TV shut off, and my dad wandered into the kitchen. He pulled the oven door open a little.

"Yum," he exclaimed. "It's good to have you cook."

"I know," I replied with a snicker. "If I didn't, they'd probably hospitalize me for anorexia."

He laughed. "Is my cooking really that bad?"

I nodded. "It's okay, though. Be glad you have me or you'd probably kill yourself on your own food."

The oven timer interrupted the banter that Dad and I could have kept going for several minutes. I pulled out the bagels and we sat down to eat.

Dad was washing the dishes in the sink; it was 7:30. He had tried to rope me into it, but I refused, reminding him that I'd done the dishes last night, and besides, I made dinner.

I started toward my room, hearing my volume of Shakespeare calling my name. Before I could get there, I heard Dad make a disgusted noise in the kitchen.

"Oh, Lauren, I just remembered that I forgot something in the shop office. Could you go get it for me?"

I rolled my eyes and turned around. Dad was forever absentmindedly leaving things where they fell. "Sure. What is it?"

"It's a yellow envelope, page-sized. Got my name on it."

"Okay, I'll go get it." I slung on my coat - the hallway between our shop and our home wasn't heated - and put on my tennis shoes. Then, bracing myself before heading out into Chicago winter air, I opened the door.

It was freezing out there, but no more than I had suspected. I jogged down the stairwell and took the door into _Quaint and Remarkable_, my dad's antique shop.

I went back to the office, but something smelled funny. Like…I don't know, but it was putrid. I wondered if Dad had left one of his sack lunches in the garbage and forgotten to change the trash. Whatever it was, it was disgusting.

I opened the door to the dark office, and from somewhere I heard these weird noises. Almost as if I were outside. But not outside in Chicago. _Here_ someplace else.


	3. WTE, Lauren

**Chapter Three**

Then it happened. One moment I was in my dad's office, the next I was…somewhere else. It was strange, and as I looked at my hands, I tried to scream. There was no skin. Only blood vessels, bone, ligaments. I felt as though I was tumbling in a vortex of something, but my brain couldn't tell me what.

My body certainly couldn't, either. I was dizzy; my head spun. Suddenly, I was awake again, right side up, and...Warm? It wasn't warm in my dad's shop by any standards. But it didn't look as if that was where I'd landed, anyways. I was not anywhere near home.

I sat up. It was dark, and I could see bright stars overhead. It was warm here. Where was I?

Then I heard voices. _What happened? Who is that? Oh, no, Christopher. You know what happened? Yeah, but I don't like it, and I sure hope I'm seeing things. Go get a torch, will you?_

I moaned and put a hand to my head, flopping back onto the soft grass of wherever I was. Then, footsteps. I tried to back away on my hands and knees.

"W-who are you" I stammered to the dark figure that stood before me.

"It's okay, don't worry." A guy's voice. Someone my age, or perhaps a bit older.

"What happened"

"It's a long story. Here." The figure held out his hand to me, and I took it, using the leverage to stand. "You'll probably feel a little weird. Come with us, and we'll explain a little bit, if we can."

I followed, and then dark became light. A beautiful young woman with red hair stood holding a torch in front of her. "Christopher" she addressed the guy in front of me. He was tall, but not above average; he had blonde hair and a good face. Definitely not ugly. The way he was looking at this girl, though; there was no way I'd get a shot at him.

She seemed to suddenly remember me. "Do you know where she came from, Christopher"

He turned to me. "What's your name"

"Lauren Kale" I replied a bit shakily. "What's going on"

He turned back to his girlfriend, or whatever. "She just…well, you saw it, she appeared. I have the feeling I know how she got here."

"W-what are you talking about" I asked. It was creeping me out; they knew something I didn't. "Where are we"

"Everworld." They turned to look at me. Etain, I thought that was her name, stepped forward to take my trembling arm.

"Come with me, and we will try to help you."

"B-but my dad" I exclaimed. "He's waiting for me to come back, and he won't know "

Christopher took my other arm. "This one's gonna be a nut job before we're finished."

They led me out of the forest and toward a brightly lit castle on a hill. It didn't look to be in the best of repairs, but it seemed to me that some fixing up had been done. At the moment, however, all I wanted to be at was home.


End file.
